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Twin Suns, Twin Moons:
Musical and Narrative Contrast in Star Wars and Star Wars: Rebels
On May 25, 1977, movie audiences were treated, for the very first time, to the now history-making silent, black screen and blue text, with the words, “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away….” Seconds later, their senses were shocked by the sudden, blaring, triumphant trumpet blast of the “Main Fanfare” for the first film of what would become the Star Wars film saga. Few media franchises can match the breadth of Star Wars in terms of the sheer volume of intellectual property, and fewer still can claim to be as iconic. Not only have the characters, dialogues, settings, and aesthetics been directly referenced across the broadest possible range of media,[1] so too has the music of the celebrated film composer John Williams. In the franchise itself, Williams’ music may be the most recognizable feature of Star Wars iconography. One would be hard-pressed to find a piece of Star Wars media that does not contain the aforementioned “Main Fanfare,” the sweepingly majestic “Binary Sunset,” or the foreboding, villainous “Imperial March.” Within the seemingly endless Star Wars universe, composers for the franchise’s “lower tier” projects, i.e., any property outside of the nine main films,[2] are presented with a challenge: to emulate Williams’ original, titanic score, keeping a consistent sonic aesthetic, but not copy him directly. How can these projects create space for the composer’s own artistic and musical language? In a broader sense, how are creators of established properties able to balance innovation and tradition, to grow their new audiences without alienating the old one?
The Star Wars media empire, comprised of films, televisions series, books, comics, and video games, can be broken into three general chronological eras: the Original trilogy era (OT), the Prequel trilogy era (PT), and the Sequel trilogy era (ST).[3] Musically speaking, the Star Wars canon can be divided into two distinct categories: the properties with a score composed by Williams, and those without. Williams scored all nine films of the so-called “Skywalker Saga,” while the rest of the franchise’s music comes from composers such as John Powell (Solo, (2018)), Michael Giacchino (Rogue One, (2016)), and Kevin Kiner, who wrote the score for the television series The Clone Wars (2008-14, 2020) and Rebels (2014-2018). Rebels occupies a unique place within the greater Star Wars chronology, qualifying as a prequel since it takes place before the events of A New Hope. And yet, musically, aesthetically, and narratively, it is more closely aligned with the OT, rather than the PT. Though Rebels is nominally a prequel, Kiner’s musical language sets it firmly within the OT era, with frequent sonic callbacks to Williams’ score. Each aesthetic connection serves not only to link the viewer to the OT era but also, through its absences and deviations, to highlight the narrative differences between Rebels and the original films. This is particularly apparent in the parallels and contrasts between the heroes of Rebels and the original trilogy, Ezra Bridger and Luke Skywalker, respectively. The use of their particular musical motifs serves to differentiate them further through both their differences in composition and the ways and types of scenes that use their motifs in the final artistic product. Indeed, the various ways in which Kiner draws on, references, or alludes to Williams’ music for Luke Skywalker emphasizes the parallels between Ezra and Luke. He also encourages the viewer to consider new and alternative modes of heroism and masculine identity through the musical and narrative inversions of the two protagonists.
Stranger in a Strange Galaxy
Lucas took his inspiration for Star Wars from, among many places, the Romantic symphonic repertoire of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, a rather uncommon practice at the time. By the 1950s and 60s, the tradition of using Romantic music to accompany films was dying out. The popular music of the era was slowly replacing music by composers such as Max Steiner, Erich Korngold, or Leonard Bernstein.[4] Outside of the realm of science fiction, films such as Breakfast at Tiffany’s (dir. Blake Edwards, 1961) or The Graduate (dir. Mike Nichols, 1967) used songs like folk-rock duo Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” (1965) partly for aesthetic purposes, and partly to exploit the songs’ commercial success outside of the films. Lucas himself elected to use an entirely pop soundtrack for his film American Graffiti (dir. Lucas, 1973). Stanley Kubrick’s decision to use classical music for 2001: A Space Odyssey (dir. Kubrick, 1960) was a dramatic departure from the contemporary trends and the traditional science fiction scores. Traditionally, music for the science fiction genre would use electro-acoustic instruments, timbres, and musique concrete to provide a sound consistent with the futuristic setting, often in styles taken from the twentieth-century classical tradition—e.g., atonalism, twelve-tone technique, and aleatoric music. Kubrick, however, had a different approach, choosing to “combine images of deep space and unseen worlds with a compilation of repertoire orchestral pieces.”[5] The pieces selected spanned from Richard Strauss’ Thus Spoke Zarathustra (Also sprach Zarathustra, op. 30, 1896) and Johann Strauss Jr.’s The Blue Danube (An der schonen blauen Danau, op. 34, 1866) to contemporary art music such as Gyorgy Ligeti’s Lus Aeterna (1966), Atmospheres (1961), Requiem (1963-65), and Adventures (1962). Yet, according to Emilio Audissino, Williams scholar and film historian and musicologist at the University of Southampton, UK, Kubrick’s choice of music also stemmed from his lack of trust in contemporary film composers. In an interview with film critic Michel Ciment in 1975 upon the release of Barry Lyndon (dir. Kubrick, 1975), Kubrick argues for his decision not to use contemporary compositions. “However good our best film composers may be, they are not a Beethoven, a Mozart, or a Brahms. Why use music which is less good when there is such a multitude of great orchestral music from the past, and from our own time?” he asked.[6] Lucas, following Kubrick’s example, rejected the modernist, electronic soundscape of contemporary fiction in favor of the more standard orchestral repertoire. Jonathan Rinzler recalls this decision as being entirely deliberate, to help ease the audience into the extremely unfamiliar fictional world with the use of more familiar music. “[Lucas] didn’t want, for example, electronic music, he didn’t want futuristic, cliché, outer space noises. He felt that since the picture was so highly different in all of its physical orientations—with the different creatures, places unseen, sights unseen, and noises unheard—that the music should be on fairly familiar emotional ground.”[7] With American Graffiti, filmed in the 1970s but set in the 1960s, Lucas uses the ‘60s soundscape in order to bridge the temporal gap for the audience; similarly, in Star Wars, classical music is used to bridge the conceptual gap between the weirdness of the science fiction setting and the seminal storytelling about to unfold. Williams’ score, then, at Lucas’ direction, becomes the audience’s anchor, drawing on common classical music tropes to underline or reinforce familiar narratives played out in a stunningly unfamiliar manner.
Fanfare for the Common Jedi
Consider Luke’s theme, the “Main Title” fanfare, as shown in the brass section excerpts in Figures 1.1 and 1.2. Williams explains his composition in the liner notes of the original 1977 LP release:
When I thought of a theme for Luke and his adventures, I composed a melody that reflected the brassy, bold, masculine, and noble qualities I saw in the character. When the theme is played softly, I tended towards a softer brass sound. But I used fanfarish horns for the more heraldic passages. This theme, in particular, brings out the full glow of the glorious brass section of the London Symphony Orchestra.[8]
Composed primarily of perfect intervals, the theme begins with an ascending fifth, an opening salvo so famous that music students everywhere use it to identify perfect fifths in their ear training exercises. The A-section of the theme ends on a half-cadence as the chords move to a strong dominant, primed, and ready to continue to the next melody. As Williams notes, the principal instrumentation is in the brass section, immediately conferring an old-world heroic air to Luke. “[The Main Title theme] conveys the heroism at the heart of the saga with the economy of its opening fifth (reaching upward), descending triplet (gathering strength for another try), and triumphant lift to an octave above the opening note (attainment of the goal).”[9] The initial opening fifth is also similar to the “perfect rising fifth” of “Siegfried’s Horn Call” from Wagner’s Ring Cycle, emblematic of many heroic melodies.[10] Horns and brass have long-held heroic and martial associations in classical music, and Williams draws upon these audible connotations to tether the strange sights on the screen with the subconscious, yet comforting and familiar, narrative archetypes that the audience can recognize.
Now indelibly etched into the public consciousness, the “Main Fanfare” theme is energetic, rousing, and militaristic, and its use generally accompanies moments of onscreen heroism and valiant acts. Williams used the adjective “heraldic” when referring to his use of horns; the Main Fanfare is, indeed, a herald, in the sense that it announces and introduces the story of the films to the audiences, accompanying each films’ scrolling textual prologue. In this way, the Main Fanfare could be considered to be a sonic invocation to a Homeric muse, an allusion which further accentuates Luke’s characterization of a hero in the classical sense. The story of Luke Skywalker has often been compared to Joseph Campbell’s “Hero’s Journey,” his monomythic template of mythological narrative structure. Though his work did not solely focus on the classical myths, Campbell’s theories of comparative mythology were a significant influence on Lucas’ script, as admitted by the director himself:
I came to the conclusion after American Graffiti that what's valuable for me is to set standards, not to show people the world the way it is...around the period of this realization...it came to me that there really was no modern use of mythology...The Western was possibly the last generically American fairy tale, telling us about our values. And once the Western disappeared, nothing has ever taken its place. In literature we were going off into science fiction...so that's when I started doing more strenuous research on fairy tales, folklore, and mythology, and I started reading Joe's books. Before that I hadn't read any of Joe's books...It was very eerie because in reading The Hero with a Thousand Faces I began to realize that my first draft of Star Wars was following classic motifs... So I modified my next draft according to what I'd been learning about classical motifs and made it a little bit more consistent.[11]
Several sources note that the Campbellian stages of Departure, Initiation, and Return, and the character archetypes of mentor, ally, and villain can all be cleanly mapped onto A New Hope and the larger structure of the original trilogy of films. Even if Lucas’ original draft was written without Campbell’s influence, the films and theories are now indelibly linked in the popular consciousness, as well as its music.
By contrast, while Ezra’s theme, seen in Figure 2, is also played in the horns, they are muted, thinner, ringing out more softly over shimmering, sustained strings, the direct timbrel antithesis to the blaring brass. The theme begins with the same interval of a perfect fifth but immediately turns downward, rather than continuing up. The melody continually returns to its point of origin on the E-flat, in between moments of upward movement. It is as if the music itself is wary of moving forward, ending weakly on the second degree on the scale, with no clear cadential movement forward in the accompaniment. Instead, the accompaniment favors something of a pedal tone on E-flat, occasionally stepping up or down to suit the sparse polyphony as needed.
Figure 2. “Ezra’s Theme,” Star Wars: Rebels, transcription by author
Shy, unsure, and sorrowful, Ezra’s theme mostly serves to underscore the character’s moments of emotional reflection, rather than his superhuman actions. Those moments are usually accompanied by a dramatic “Force” cue, the “Rebel Fanfare,” or the Ghost crew’s musical motif. Rarely does he have an action sequence all to himself; whenever he finds himself in a firefight or a lightsaber duel, he generally has an ally, or several, to aid him, whereas Luke often finds himself in a one-on-one confrontation.
These inversions and parallels are also reflections of what the audience can see onscreen: both are orphans from provincial areas of the galaxy, both are accidentally caught up in insurrectionist rebel activity against the Empire, and both discover that they can wield the powers of the Force.[12] Contrasts do abound, however. Ezra receives several years of Jedi training from a former Jedi, while Luke gets, at most, a handful of days. Ezra is actively involved with the Rebellion from before its inception, while Luke steps in at the last second to secure one of the Alliance’s most significant victories. Ezra’s primary visual motif is connected to the twin moons of his home planet of Lothal – this, in direct contrast to the famous scene of Luke as he gazes into the twin sunset of his home planet of Tatooine, and so on. Even their character designs are similarly oppositional. Luke is fair-skinned, blond-haired and blue-eyed, a country farmer, kind but naive. Ezra, on the other hand, is a street-wise city kid, clearly coded as either Jewish or Middle-Eastern with his dark hair and comparatively darker skin.[13] Ezra is a homeless city orphan who is intimately familiar with the Empire’s atrocities, unlike Luke, who initially sees the Empire as a somewhat benevolent source of education and career opportunity. When it comes to their roles in the Rebellion, though, both Luke and Ezra initially begin their adventures with the promise of Jedi training and find themselves drawn into the major political and martial action of the Galactic Civil War.
In its first appearance outside of the introductory text scroll, Luke’s theme is quite different from what we have already heard. There is no opening trumpet blast or militaristic drums, and it has a very different texture, with strings and winds taking more prominence for a softer, mellower sound. The motivic melody is still a solo line, but is played in the French horns, implicitly sonically identifying Luke as the protagonist, according to Nickalls, and has a much tamer underlying harmonization.[14] Instead of an alternating pattern of quarter notes and triplets, which underscores the martial aspect of the narrative to come (the “Wars” part of the saga), the harmonic rhythm here is much simpler, with gentle, almost sweet chord bursts on the second and fourth beats. Steven Galipeau, in his analysis of Luke Skywalker as a modern myth, writes of this narrative moment, “We meet [Luke] as a discouraged, frustrated young man stuck on his uncle’s farm, dreaming of going to the galaxy space academy with many of his friends. As he goes with his uncle to meet the Jawa sand trawler and the droids they bring, his aunt calls out his name: ‘Luke! Luke!’ The music and sequence immediately set him apart.”[15] This sequence, beyond being the initial appearance of the theme within the actual narrative, contains the first heroic music in nearly seven minutes—moreover, beyond heroic, it is the first recognizably human moment in nearly seven minutes. The preceding sequence contains a distinct lack of human features and intelligible speech, populated by the squeals of the alien Jawas or the robotic beeps of R2-D2. The only English-language dialogue in this seven-minute sequence comes from fellow droid C-3PO, who does not understand the situation he has found himself in at all, and the helmeted, faceless Stormtroopers, who are following their trail. But, simple and full of youthful energy, this musical moment is an aural demonstration of Luke’s nascent narrative journey. He is not yet the hero of the Rebellion, nor the famed last of the Jedi; he is simply Luke, whose primary goal at this moment is to leave his little hometown, by any means possible. While the audience is treated to several recognizable motifs in the opening sequence, such as Princess Leia’s theme, the Rebel Fanfare, and the original theme for Darth Vader and the Empire[16], the music of the sequence of the droids wandering across the desert is highly reminiscent of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring. Lucas even used Stravinsky as a temporary score during the editing process.[17] Famous for inciting a riot in the streets of Paris at its premiere in 1913, Rite of Spring, and by association, Williams’ scoring of this scene is strange and almost frightening. It is meandering and unmoored, as the winds oscillate between two notes of an ill-fitting interval—perfect for representing the dangerous journey of the droids, but difficult to recognize as a melody, especially when it is held up against the other, more melodic motifs. To audience members unfamiliar with Stravinsky, the alienating sounds would unnerve them all the same, even without prior knowledge of Rite of Spring. The return to standard melodic form also functions as an auditory notice to the audience, gently calling attention to the arrival of the protagonist.
Luke discovers stolen information along with a secret message hidden within one of the droids: Princess Leia’s plea to a mysterious Obi-wan Kenobi for aid.[18] When the Empire inevitably comes looking for its stolen property, Luke is too late to warn his aunt and uncle and finds his homestead burned to the ground. Grief-stricken, Luke begs Obi-wan to take him with him to the Rebel Alliance, in the hopes of learning how to become a Jedi like his mysterious father. After hiring smuggler Han Solo to take them to Alderaan, they instead find the Death Star, and Luke convinces Han to mount a daring, if ill-planned, rescue of the princess. While they are able to save Leia, they lose Obi-wan as he stalls the Imperial forces, buying them enough time to escape. Thoughts of becoming a Jedi are pushed to the background as Luke volunteers to be a part of the attack on the Death Star, despite Han’s insistence that he should take his cut of their reward money and run. Up against an implausible behemoth of a killing machine—a massive weapon capable of genocide on an unprecedented scale—it is Luke and his undiscovered superhuman abilities that allow him to fire the shot which destroys the weapon and the collection of villains stationed on it, immortalizing him as the hero of the galaxy.
For Ezra, our second protagonist, as with the example above, the first iteration of his theme cements not only his position of a protagonist of Rebels but also the type of protagonist he will be. It arrives more than fifteen minutes into the episode, the bulk of which has been taken up by reworkings and quotations of Williams’ motifs. Viewers are treated to the wonderfully familiar Imperial March, the TIE Fighter chase music, and the Rebel Fanfare, with a brief, mezzo-piano line of the Ghost crew’s theme inserted in the middle. Created for Rebels, the supporting tempo and pace of Ezra’s theme remain consistent as the score flits from motif to motif, one after the other, as quickly as the camera changes and rapid-fire dialogue will allow. The rather unobtrusive inclusion of the theme is intended to cast it as an extension of a Williams’ musical moment, and not give it the attention a new theme might demand in a different context. This effect causes Ezra’s theme to stand out even more, as its slowness and pensiveness, nestled in a flurry of musical moments that recall the thrilling spaceflight chases of the Original Trilogy, is a deliberate contrast to the previous fifteen minutes of music. The audience’s attention is thus directed towards the character being introduced by the music. The musical change signals a similar shift in mood, content, and focus, from heroic action to emotional reflection. Indeed, this is the first truly character-driven moment of the entire series. It is also the first moment of an onscreen character struggle as Ezra tries to reconcile the altruism he has just witnessed with the cynicism he has known for the last seven years of his life.
Much of A New Hope’s directorial style feels reminiscent of the genre of “Old Hollywood” adventure films, which Lucas credits as a formative influence. One reviewer for TIME Magazine in 1977 writes, “Star Wars is a combination of Flash Gordon, The Wizard of Oz, the Errol Flynn swashbucklers of the '30s and '40s and almost every western ever screened—not to mention The Hardy Boys, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and The Faerie Queene. The result is a remarkable confection: a subliminal history of the movies, wrapped in a riveting tale of suspense and adventure…”[19] Nowhere are these genre parallels more apparent than in the middle act of A New Hope, in the rescue of Princess Leia from the Death Star. What was meant to be a covert operation soon dissolves into chase sequences and shoot-outs through the halls of the gargantuan space station. Luke and Leia, taking a wrong turn, find themselves trapped between a locked door and a bottomless maintenance shaft. Thinking quickly, Luke throws a grappling hook across the hallway to the other side of the cavern, while Leia fends off the Stormtroopers shooting at them from above with a pilfered blaster of her own. Leia grabs ahold of him, and, with a kiss on the cheek for luck, they swing across the maintenance shaft to the other side, accompanied by the gripping return of the Main Fanfare. At this moment, with the melody in the blaring trumpet, rhythmic bass strings, and a thrilling set of triplet figurations in the upper strings, Williams uses these musical “tricks” to help bring Lucas’ vision of an updated fairy tale to life. The musical pattern pays homage to a specific type of fantastical adventure film, reinforcing and underscoring the kind of action that we see on the screen. The use of Luke’s theme more closely welds the character of Luke Skywalker to the heroic archetype of that genre. Leia’s theme, played as she grabs him, gets a similar treatment by association. The melody moves from its usual place in the flutes to the horns, the tempo is sped up to better match Luke’s, and the theme also sports a similar triplet pattern in the middle and lower strings. In this way, Lucas and Williams continue to build both visual and aural associations of Luke and the protagonists of classic Hollywood adventure films, such as The Adventures of Robin Hood (dir. Michael Curtiz, 1938), a film which boasts an Academy Award-winning score by Korngold.[20]
Rebels is divided into fifty-four episodes of roughly twenty-two minutes each. While some story arcs spill over into a second episode, time and efficiency are priorities in terms of telling a satisfying story with the same sense of completeness as that of A New Hope. Music becomes vital, then, as a useful shorthand for conveying certain emotions and subtexts that might otherwise be given more temporal weight if the director had more minutes to spare. Set five years before the events of A New Hope, the narrative backdrop of Rebels depicts the formation of the Galactic Alliance, the establishment of the famous rebel place on the moon Yavin IV, and the subtle, growing threat of the still-in-construction Death Star.
Throughout the series, several familiar film characters make cameo appearances, including Lando Calrissian, Princess Leia, and Obi-wan Kenobi. The main thrust of the story, however, centers on the crew of the Ghost, an early rebel cell, and its newest crew member, Ezra Bridger. After having accidentally assisted in a minor act of pre-Rebellion terrorism, Ezra is convinced by the Ghost’s pilot and captain, Hera Syndulla, to assist with a rescue mission. Despite his initial capture and subsequent escape from Imperial custody, Ezra chooses to stay with the crew as they see the rescue mission to the end. In a desperate struggle to escape, Ezra witnesses the Ghost’s second-in-command, Kanan Jarrus, wield a lightsaber, revealing himself as a survivor of the presumed-extinct and quasi-legendary Jedi Order.[21] Recognizing that Ezra shares his gift, Kanan offers to train him to wield the Force to continue fighting against the Empire, dispelling any notion that the Jedi have been annihilated with a triumphant declaration, “Not all of us.” Ezra agrees and thus begins their partnership, which will last for the next four years, as Kanan passes on his fragmented training to Ezra, and they both become more and more deeply entwined with the fight against the Empire.
One arc, in particular, uses an inordinately high concentration of Ezra’s theme to quickly convey an immense shift in characterization, as well as a symbolic stripping away of innocence. “Empire Day,” in the Star Wars universe, marks the day that the Empire was founded. Seven years before the start of the narrative, Ezra’s parents were arrested for anti-Imperial radio broadcasts on Empire Day, leaving him effectively homeless until he joined the crew of the Ghost. This year, the crew helps to smuggle an Imperial data worker carrying sensitive information out of the city, much to Ezra’s consternation. “Tseebo went to work for the Empire,” he says, bitterly, “after they took my parents away.”[22] Despite his lingering resentment towards Tseebo, Ezra agrees to help lure their Imperial pursuers to an abandoned, creature-infested asteroid. Weaponless and backed into a corner, Ezra’s fear and anger summons a giant monster. This, Kanan explains after they escape, was a result of Ezra unwittingly tapping into the “Dark Side” of the Force. Shaken, Ezra ruminates on the days’ events in the cockpit of the ship, where fellow crew-member Sabine gives him a birthday present to cheer him up—a family portrait of the Bridgers that she had found while hiding out in the ruins of his childhood home.[23]
In roughly forty minutes, these two episodes feature seven iterations of Ezra’s theme, one of the highest concentrations of a single theme in the entire series. It is the final two episodes that best demonstrate the new emotional depths of his character. At this point in the grander narrative of Rebels, this story arc represents a turning point for several of its main characters. For Ezra in particular, it is the first time in eight years that he is finally able to process his parents’ arrest and disappearance, a clearly traumatic experience. As Sabine walks out of the cockpit, wishing Ezra a happy birthday, the camera zooms out from the interior of the ship, the cockpit aglow with a soft, golden light, and retreats as the ship glides into the starry void of space, accompanied by Ezra’s theme, warm, full, and stately in horn chorus. Before this final shot, we hear Ezra’s theme in its usual arrangement: the melody is in the clarinet, paired with yearning, intervallic leaps in counterpoint, at a mournful and melancholy tempo and dynamic. The horn chorus is louder, of course, and in a major mode rather than a minor one, with expansive harp arpeggios reinforcing the broader tonal range. Rather than the melody dwindling out, as it usually does, the second half of the melody turns upward and ends, just like the Main Fanfare, on the dominant fifth. This moment marks a significant shift in Ezra’s emotional maturity and growth; indeed, the very next episode has Ezra construct own lightsaber, a ritual which historically marked the transition to a proper apprenticeship. Concurrently, instances of Ezra’s theme decrease dramatically. As his character evolves into a more classic hero, and as he becomes stronger and surer of himself, his moments of emotional reflection occur with much less frequency.
One of the hallmarks of Lucas’ directorial style, particularly for the Star Wars films, is the extended periods of musical silence, that is, the copious lack of an accompanying soundtrack, during action sequences. This helps to undercut the inherent tension of a scene in two ways: firstly, with the music’s absence, the sounds of the actual battle are given more prominence. The construction of the soundscape puts the viewer in the cockpit, so to speak, with each fired laser serving to immerse the viewer into the emotions of the scene more fully. Secondly, the shock is much stronger once the music finally returns. While contemporary composers strive to eliminate silence in their scores, filling the film with a consistent level of audio, Lucas’ choice to intercut Williams’ soundtrack with silence often brings more considerable attention to the music through its contrast, as well as increasing both suspense and tension. When the music cuts in during an action sequence, suddenly overtaking the random technological sound cues with deliberate, organized audio, it is a signal to the audience that a major event is about to take place.
In the final battle of A New Hope, shots of rebel ships swarming the enormous Death Star are intercut with status updates from both Rebel headquarters and the Death Star command deck, as the Rebels’ window of opportunity to win quickly closes. The Rebels are aiming for a tiny structural weakness in the weapon’s construction, and though several pilots attempt to take it out, none are able to do so. Roughly half of this battle sequence is set to musical silence: a soundscape comprised of computerized beeps, screaming engines, fired blasters, and character commentary. The music returns, in this case, quite literally, with a bang, a loud brass fanfare cued alongside the explosion of a crashed starship, just as Luke is poised to begin his ultimately successful attack. Williams masterfully scores this final run with a series of diminished chords that continually modulate but never resolve, increasing tension with each beat. Simultaneously, Luke’s anxiety mounts as he and his team are hunted by Darth Vader—as does the audience’s. When his wingmen pull away or are taken out by Vader, the Main Fanfare returns in a minor, diminished key.
The use of Luke’s theme at this point highlights just how perilous his position is. Now, it is, quite literally, Luke Skywalker against not only the behemoth of the Death Star but the attack team led by Vader, which has systematically wiped out the rest of the Rebels. He is the last rebel left standing. He is not truly alone, however—the ghost of Obi-wan softly urges him to trust in his superhuman abilities, as the sweet Force theme breaks in urgently, cutting over the syncopated, pulsing horns. As Vader’s formation is broken at the last second by Han Solo, the Main Fanfare returns triumphantly, but harrowingly, over the same thrumming beat in the drums. Williams’ score provides not only a soundtrack to the battle, but also one meant to parallel Luke’s state of mind. He is not wrestling with a difficult choice, nor is the music simply announcing his presence, but the story and music work in sync to transmit a clear message to the audience. The Main Fanfare, in diminished form, sails over a constant, unrelenting timpani beat, until all melodic movement is pulled into one single, repeating diminished chord as Luke fires the final blast.
“It works perfectly together, when he's going through that moment hearing [Obi-wan], and he goes through that moment of realization, then enlightenment, then turning off the targeting computer, and the music reflects the ‘game on’ attitude, and you said it as the music was playing, the first word that pops into my mind when that musical transition happens is ‘determination’... you don't need exposition, you don't need Luke to say anything about it, you don't need any narrative—the narrative comes from the music! You know that Luke's made the right decision because of the triumphant nature that the music kicks it up a notch—”
“The stakes are raised—”
“—At that moment, you know Luke is gonna succeed.”[24]
Williams’ score portrays Luke as terrified, and rightly so, but determined nonetheless. While we in the audience know that, intellectually, he must succeed in this impossible task, we are still able to empathize with his fear through the augmentation and transformation of his musical cue.
Things are not so triumphant for our other protagonist, however. Beyond only indicating the character’s presence onscreen, Ezra’s theme goes through a similar type of modification to fit the mood of the scene, though once again, in the opposite direction. Ezra, who was never quite sure if his parents were still alive after they had been arrested, discovers via a Force-inspired dream that they did, in fact, recently perish during a mass prison break. His mourning spills into the following episode where Leia Organa, in a cameo appearance, finds Ezra quietly crying over the photo of his parents that Sabine had saved for him, his musical motif this time in a violin solo, rather than the horns or woodwinds, looping repeatedly. The musical mourning is quiet, simple, and almost resigned in the way that Ezra’s theme resolves into the beginning chord, rather than all-encompassing in huge, sweeping grief, as one might expect. Instead of leaving space to move forward, Ezra’s grief circles back on itself. In this way, Kiner’s score reflects the end of Ezra’s emotional journey from the previous episode. Despite the hope that his dream would lead him to his family, he seemed to have already gleaned the true meaning of his vision by the time he confirms his parents’ deaths. This also marks the final instance of the theme for the entirety of the second season. Although Ezra does display remarkable moments of empathy and maturity in the episodes to come, the lack of his theme as confirmation and underpinning belies just how well he is handling that revelation, which is to say, not very well at all.
While it did give him some comfort, the hope, however feeble it may have been, that his parents were still alive had provoked some dangerously reckless behaviors in him. Caught in a firefight and desperate to get to Lothal as soon as possible, he charges at the oncoming Imperial force without much regard for his or his crewmates’ safety. In the finale of the second season, this powerful combination of sorrow and anger makes him easy prey for Darth Maul, who skillfully manipulates him by promising him the knowledge he needs to exact his revenge against the Empire. The season ends ominously—Kanan is permanently blinded, the Rebels have lost their powerful ally Fulcrum, and Maul has returned from his mysterious exile, ready to seek and destroy his most hated enemy. The final shot of the season is of Ezra, alone in his cabin, concentrating as he opens the evil artifact they acquired from the temple, eyes tinged a glowing red as he glares at the camera.[25]
Animated series will often use a gap in the narrative chronology, a “time skip,” to partly explain or justify a character’s updated design. Rebels utilizes this as well, with a six-month gap between the end of season two and the beginning of season three, and the difference is staggering. Older, taller, exponentially more skilled, and a with a brand new lightsaber, even the characters remark to themselves upon seeing him, “Is that really Ezra?”[26] More reckless than ever, he no longer has any qualms about killing in the name of the rebellion. It is as though his moral compass has dissipated alongside his motif, neither of which returns until the third episode of the season when he finally has his long overdue catharsis with his mentor.[27] By then, the crew of the Ghost has become fully enmeshed in the Rebel Alliance, and the main narrative of the series turns to the burgeoning war effort.
Mirror in the Galactic Mirror
It is incorrect to say, however, that Kiner never chooses to use Ezra’s theme in a heroic context. Most notably, in the series finale, his theme plays triumphantly over his great sacrifice, as Ezra summons enormous, semi-legendary space creatures to destroy the Imperial blockade over Lothal, and spirit away the remaining ships beyond the edge of the known galaxy, with both Thrawn, the series’ chief antagonist, and Ezra still on board. The scene is scored with oscillating harp-like chords to accompany such an unbelievable sight. Heralded with the soft, yet stately opening fourth of the “Force” theme, Ezra’s theme returns in fully-orchestrated force with the melody doubled in the strings and trumpets—the most triumphant instrumentation possible. Instead of the melody aiming downwards on the repeat of the fifth interval, it turns up, climbing until it climaxes on a heroic major third.
Fans had long suspected that Ezra would have had to sacrifice himself in some manner to explain his absence in the events of the original trilogy. On his deathbed, Yoda tells Luke, “When gone am I, the last of the Jedi you will be,”[28] leaving, unfortunately, no room for any other Jedi left in the galaxy, lest the entire narrative of the OT falls apart. It was inevitable that both Kanan and Ezra would have to vanish, though while the former died, the latter merely disappeared. It is a fitting moment, then, for his theme to return in full force. A far cry from his introduction as a scrappy street-rat, Ezra has finally come into his own as a Jedi in his own right. He understands the role that he plays, both as it pertains to the fate of the Rebel Alliance, and in a meta-sense, as both precursor and herald to Luke Skywalker. Happily and willingly, he chooses to sacrifice himself to save his planet, and the hundreds of civilians who live on it, and the victorious music confirms this. His journey with the crew of the Ghost, his apprenticeship with Kanan, and his role in the Rebel Alliance has transformed him, and his music, from shy, unsure, and sorrowful to confident, powerful, and determined, though the core of his music, and by extension, his character, remains the same; this heroism was within him all along.
The same type of treatment is true for Williams’ development of the Main Fanfare; there are several moments where the theme is modified to better reflect Luke’s emotional turmoil, rather than any heroic action. In Empire, Luke travels to the desolate planet of Dagobah to train with Master Yoda. Luke, attempting to lift his starship out from the swamp with nothing but his mind, finds himself wanting, possibly for the first time, a crushing blow for a young man with singular ability, and who shot from obscurity to intergalactic fame and infamy over several days. This failure is the most recent in a string of several failures. Luke has, in the course of the film so far, nearly frozen to death, lost his co-pilot in a firefight, and crash-landed on a strange and hostile world, among other missteps, and his inability to salvage his ship appears to be the final blow. As Luke sinks to the ground, defeated and shamed, the solo French horn plays the first line of the Main Fanfare, but in a somber, remorseful minor key. The most devastating blow is yet to come, but at this point, Luke is at his lowest point. He has lost faith in himself, represented by his motif, his identity of himself as a hero, stripped of all support and pretense, and laid bare, in all of his sonic self-hatred and humiliation. When that final blow does come, however, as Darth Vader reveals the terrible secret of Luke’s parentage, it requires three full, in-universe years for Luke to heal, reflect, and begin to move past this revelation. Return of the Jedi opens with Luke in an elaborate trap, and just as it seems all hope is lost, he springs into action, accompanied by that glorious, fully-orchestrated, major key fanfare. Luke’s journey is not about discovering his inner-hero—his courage, bravery, and drive to do the right thing are evident from the very beginning. Despite the Empire’s best efforts, he remains unshaken, even in the face of shocking revelations. Instead, it is a quest to discover and recover a family that he never knew he had and to build an emotional connection with his father strong enough to break evil’s hold on him.
The Starship of Theseus
In the next six months, several new Star Wars properties are set to launch, including the video game Jedi: Fallen Order, the seventh season of the revived Star Wars: The Clone Wars animated show, the new live-action television series The Mandalorian, and, of course, the ninth and final film in the so-called “Skywalker Saga,” Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker. Each of the listed properties’ accompanying trailers, with music scored by Gordy Haab, Stephen Barton, and BLAKUS, composers for the video game Star Wars: Battlefront II, Kiner, and Williams, respectively, have one unexpected thing in common: the absence of the “Main Fanfare” theme. In the trailer for Jedi: Fallen Order, Haab’s score is much more reminiscent of Alan Silvestri’s Marvel’s Avengers in its melody and harmony than anything else. Though there are two instances of Williams’ themes in the trailer score, they are both short and incomplete. We hear the somber and foreboding four notes of “The Imperial March” as the protagonist gazes anxiously at his broken weapon, and we hear just the beginnings of the Force theme as the title of the game is revealed, though the theme is reharmonized in order to blend with what will doubtless become the protagonist’s own leitmotif. Similarly, in the trailer for The Rise of Skywalker, Williams chooses to only incorporate one of his themes, “Princess Leia’s Theme,” with splendid, yearning sixth intervals over long, drawn-out horn and percussion crashes, partially as an homage to the late Carrie Fisher, and partially due to Leia’s rumored key role in the film itself. This thread continues in The Clone Wars season seven trailer as Kiner does not use any of Williams’ original score. Instead, the trailer begins with the theme he created for the breakout character of the show, Ahsoka Tano, before moving into entirely his own new material. For The Mandalorian, there is no Star Wars music at all, with composer Filip Oleyka favoring rhythmic drumbeats and minimalist, strummed electronic melodic lines over whining stringed effects, rather than a traditional symphonic orchestra. Simultaneously, the trailer material does not feature a single legacy character, nor does it have even a hint of the Jedi and the force.
Though the so-called “Skywalker Saga” is ending, Disney has planned nearly another decade’s worth of Star Wars content in the form of spin-off titles, television series, games, books, comics—every medium imaginable—and there are no signs that production is slowing down. Perhaps it is inevitable, then, that all traces of Luke Skywalker, visual, narrative, and musical, are disappearing from the greater Star Wars landscape as the universe continues to expand and include new protagonists and stories. Lucas, in a 1987 interview with David Sheff, commented on his artistic journey and how he came to make Star Wars, saying, “I realized that there really are no modern fairy tales. The [Western genre] really was the last of the modern myths.”[29] Since Lucas’ departure from his own intellectual propertyn 2012, the creative heads at the Walt Disney Company have done what they have always done, which is to pull, invent, or remix fairy tales from cultures all over the world. Is it any wonder, then, that they have given the same treatment to Star Wars, the last great fairy tale of the pre-Internet generation?
In today’s entertainment landscape, the divide between creator and consumer is smaller than ever, with many fans feeling a stronger sort of “claim” to a work, as though they had a hands in its production by the very act of consuming it. Thus, when an artistic product does not live up to a certain standard set by the fans, whether it is deserved or otherwise, the backlash can be frighteningly intense. In 2019, this is best demonstrated by the overwhelmingly negative reaction to the final season of HBO’s Game of Thrones, a season so hated that nearly two million people have signed a petition entitled, “Remake Game of Thrones Season 8 with competent writers.” Twenty years ago, before this current era of rapid-fire communication and virality, Star Wars fans exhibited an even more intense level of anger and hatred towards the release of the PT. Most famously, the backlash against the portrayal of Jar Jar Binks, decried as racist, immature to the point of infantile, and an “assault” on childhood, nearly caused actor Ahmed Best to take his own life.[30]
For a fan population so infamously resistant to change it seems hardly possible for any property outside of the OT to garner the same level of reverence and affection—and yet, consider the character of Ahsoka Tano, mentioned above. Introduced in 2008 as the young, spunky, hitherto unknown apprentice to Anakin Skywalker, the fan response was predictable, with many criticizing her personality as “obnoxious”; fans assumed, not without reason, that Ahsoka was created to be a character “doomed for the refrigerator, one who existed to create an emotional attachment and whose death would explain the actions of another, ostensibly more important, character.”[31] In other words, it was assumed that she would have no real, lasting impact on the characters or the narrative as a whole. But as the series wore on, the tone of The Clone Wars grew darker and darker, and the characters underwent stunning amounts of emotional development, something incredible happened. According to StarWars.com’s interview with voice actress Ashley Eckstein, “...Over the course of the show, [Ahsoka Tano] grew to become, arguably, the most popular new Star Wars character since Darth Maul—with both women and men. Her return in Star Wars Rebels, as a fully-grown and powerful Force wielder, was greeted with genuine excitement throughout social media. And with a pending showdown with Darth Vader in tonight’s season finale of Star Wars Rebels, people are worried about her.”[32]
Speaking as someone who experienced this firsthand, Ahsoka Tano’s rise in popularity was unprecedented at the time. Star Wars fans have not turned over a new leaf when it comes to change in their beloved franchise, as evidenced by the bullying of sequel trilogy stars Daisy Ridley and Kelly Marie Tran by various groups of fans, as well as the polarizing reactions leading up to December’s release of the final saga film. However, it certainly appears that f are more willing to consider a broader interpretation of what it means to be a hero in this fictional universe, and how the enduring traits of classical heroes like Luke Skywalker can be rediscovered and reinterpreted for generations to come.
Bibliography
Audissino, Emilio. John Williams’ Film Music: Jaws, Star Wars, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and the Return of the Classical Hollywood Music Style. Madison, WI: The University of Wisconsin Press, 2014.
Best, Ahmed. Twitter Post. July 3, 2018. 12:01 PM. https://twitter.com/ahmedbest/status/1014222723764162561
Brooks, Dan. “From The Clone Wars to Rebels: Ashley Eckstein on Ahsoka Tano's Journey.” StarWars.com. StarWars.com, July 19, 2018. https://www.starwars.com/news/from-the-clone-wars-to-rebels-ashley-eckstein-on-ahsoka-tanos-journey.
Collins, David, and Jimmy Mac. “Star Wars Oxygen: Vol 4”. Rebel Force Radio. Podcast audio, February 26, 2014. http://www.rebelforceradio.com/shows/2015/10/1/star-wars-oxygen-vol-4.
Ciment, Michel. Kubrick. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1982.
Davis, Lauren. “Why Ahsoka Tano Is the Best Thing to Happen to Star Wars in 20 Years.” io9. Gizmodo, December 16, 2015. https://io9.gizmodo.com/how-clone-wars-ahsoka-tano-made-the-star-wars-franchis-1537984315.
Galipeau, Steven A. The Journey of Luke Skywalker: an Analysis of Modern Myth and Symbol. Chicago, IL: Open Court, 2001.
Hischak, Thomas S. The Encyclopedia of Film Composers. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2015.
Larsen, Stephen, and Robin Larsen. Joseph Campbell: a Fire in the Mind: the Authorized Biography. Rochester, VT: Inner Traditions, 2002.
Lucas, George, and Sally Kline. George Lucas: Interviews. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1999.
Matessino, Michael, liner notes to Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, John Williams, London Symphony Orchestra, Sony Classical, 1997.
Nickalls, Peter. “Star Wars, Musical Anachronism and Audience Interpretation.” Dissertation, Cambridge University. 2010.
Rinzler, J. W. The Making of Star Wars: the Definitive Story behind the Original Film. London: Aurum, 2013.
Williams, John and Charles Lippincott. Liner notes to Star Wars (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack), John Williams, London Symphony Orchestra, 20th Century Fox Records, RSO RS-2-4201, 2LP, 1977.
Films/Episodes Cited
Lucas, George. Star Wars: A New Hope. Film. Directed by George Lucas. Los Angeles, CA: 20th Century Fox, 1977.
Lucas, George. Star Wars: Empire Strikes Back. Film. Directed by Irvin Kershner. Los Angeles, CA: 20th Century Fox, 1980.
Lucas, George. Star Wars: A New Hope. Film. Directed by Richard Marquand. Los Angeles, CA: 20th Century Fox, 1983.
Kinberg, Simon. “Spark of the Rebellion.” Star Wars: Rebels. Directed by Steward Lee and Steven G. Lee. Lucasfilm Animation, October 3, 2014.
Gilroy, Henry. “Empire Day.” Star Wars: Rebels. Directed by Steven G. Lee. Lucasfilm Animation, November 10, 2014.
Weisman, Greg. “Gathering Forces.” Star Wars: Rebels. Directed by Steward Lee. Lucasfilm Animation, November 17, 2014.
Filoni, Dave, Simon Kinberg and Stephen Melching. “Twilight of the Apprentice.” Star Wars: Rebels. Directed by Dave Filoni. Lucasfilm Animation, March 30, 2016.
Melching, Stephen, and Matt Mitchnovetz. “Steps Into Shadow.” Star Wars: Rebels. Directed by Bosco Ng and Mel Zwyer. Lucasfilm Animation, September 24, 2016.
Gilroy, Henry. “Holocrons of Fate.” Star Wars: Rebels. Directed by Steward Lee. Lucasfilm Animation, October 1, 2016.
Filoni, Dave, et al. “Family Reunion—And Farewell.” Star Wars: Rebels. Directed by Dave Filoni, et al. Lucasfilm Animation, March 5, 2018.
[1] One only has to look at films such as Spaceballs, the number of organisms named after Star Wars characters, and, Ronald Reagan’s 1983 “Evil Empire” speech denouncing communism, implicitly comparing the USSR to the evil Galactic Empire, to see just how wide-ranging its influence is.
[2] So-called the “Skywalker Saga,” as it centers on three generations of the powerful Skywalker family.
[3] The trilogy eras are divvied up as follows: A New Hope (1977), Empire Strikes Back (1980), Return of the Jedi (1993), and Rogue One (2016); The Phantom Menace (1999), Attack of the Clones (2002), Revenge of the Sith (2005), The Clone Wars (2007-2014, 2020), Star Wars Rebels (2014-2018), and Solo (2018); The Force Awakens (2015), The Last Jedi (2017), The Rise of Skywalker (2019), and Star Wars Resistance (2018-2019).
[4] For example, Bernard Hermann in The Day The Earth Stood Still (dir. Robert Wise, 1951) used electronic instruments for the bulk of his orchestra, along with innovative techniques in overdubbing and tape-reversal. (cite) Five years later, Bebe Barron, alongside husband Louis Barron, wrote one of the first entirely electronic scores for Forbidden Planet (dir. Fred Wilcox, 1956).
[5] Audissino, Emilio. John Williams’ Film Music: Jaws, Star Wars, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and the Return of the Classical Hollywood Music Style. Madison, WI: The University of Wisconsin Press, 2014.
[6] Ciment, Michel. Kubrick. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1982.
[7] Rinzler, J. W. The Making of Star Wars: the Definitive Story behind the Original Film. London: Aurum, 2013.
[8] Williams, John and Charles Lippincott. Liner notes to Star Wars (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack), John Williams, London Symphony Orchestra, 20th Century Fox Records, RSO RS-2-4201, 2LP, 1977.
[9] Matessino, Michael, liner notes to Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, John Williams, London Symphony Orchestra, Sony Classical, 1997.
[10] Nickalls, Peter. “Star Wars, Musical Anachronism and Audience Interpretation.” Dissertation, Cambridge University. 2010.
[11] Larsen, Stephen, and Robin Larsen. Joseph Campbell: a Fire in the Mind: the Authorized Biography. Rochester, VT: Inner Traditions, 2002.
[12] They are even roughly the same age, born within days of each other.
[13] His parents’ names are Ephraim and Mira (a name likely derived from Myra, Miriam, or Maryam), and his mother, in flashbacks, even wears a headscarf, one of the few human women shown to do so.
[14] Nickalls, Peter. “Star Wars, Musical Anachronism and Audience Interpretation.” Dissertation, Cambridge University. 2010.
[15] Galipeau, Steven A. The Journey of Luke Skywalker: an Analysis of Modern Myth and Symbol. Chicago, IL: Open Court, 2001.
[16] The Imperial March would not be introduced until Empire Strikes Back (1980).
[17] Rinzler, J. W. The Making of Star Wars: the Definitive Story behind the Original Film. London: Aurum, 2013.
[18] Lucas, George. Star Wars: A New Hope. Film. Directed by George Lucas. Los Angeles, CA: 20th Century Fox, 1977.
[19] “Star Wars: The Year's Best Movie.” TIME Magazine. May 27, 1977. https://time.com/4153583/star-wars-the-years-best-movie/.
[20] Continuing the associations, Williams cites Korngold as a direct inspiration for his Star Wars score. (Hischak, Thomas S. The Encyclopedia of Film Composers. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2015.
[21] Kinberg, Simon. “Spark of the Rebellion.” Star Wars: Rebels. Directed by Steward Lee and Steven G. Lee. Lucasfilm Animation, October 3, 2014.
[22] Gilroy, Henry. “Empire Day.” Star Wars: Rebels. Directed by Steven G. Lee. Lucasfilm Animation, November 10, 2014.
[23] Weisman, Greg. “Gathering Forces.” Star Wars: Rebels. Directed by Steward Lee. Lucasfilm Animation, November 17, 2014.
[24] Collins, David, and Jimmy Mac. “Star Wars Oxygen: Vol 4”. Rebel Force Radio. Podcast audio, February 26, 2014. http://www.rebelforceradio.com/shows/2015/10/1/star-wars-oxygen-vol-4.
[25] Filoni, Dave, Simon Kinberg and Stephen Melching. “Twilight of the Apprentice.” Star Wars: Rebels. Directed by Dave Filoni. Lucasfilm Animation, March 30, 2016.
[26] Melching, Stephen, and Matt Mitchnovetz. “Steps Into Shadow.” Star Wars: Rebels. Directed by Bosco Ng and Mel Zwyer. Lucasfilm Animation, September 24, 2016.
[27] Gilroy, Henry. “Holocrons of Fate.” Star Wars: Rebels. Directed by Steward Lee. Lucasfilm Animation, October 1, 2016.
[28] Lucas, George. Star Wars: A New Hope. Film. Directed by Richard Marquand. Los Angeles, CA: 20th Century Fox, 1983.
[29] Lucas, George, and Sally Kline. George Lucas: Interviews. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1999.
[30] Best, Ahmed. Twitter Post. July 3, 2018. 12:01 PM. https://twitter.com/ahmedbest/status/1014222723764162561
[31] Davis, Lauren. “Why Ahsoka Tano Is the Best Thing to Happen to Star Wars in 20 Years.” io9. Gizmodo, December 16, 2015. https://io9.gizmodo.com/how-clone-wars-ahsoka-tano-made-the-star-wars-franchis-1537984315.
[32] Brooks, Dan. “From The Clone Wars to Rebels: Ashley Eckstein on Ahsoka Tano's Journey.” StarWars.com. StarWars.com, July 19, 2018. https://www.starwars.com/news/from-the-clone-wars-to-rebels-ashley-eckstein-on-ahsoka-tanos-journey.